


Mine Own Heart

by plantmayo



Category: Frankenstein - Mary Shelley
Genre: Canon Compliant, Frankenstein Sitcom, Implied Henry/Victor, M/M, another kind of one shot, kind of?, like it could fit in canon but also this is definitely a scene i want in my story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:20:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24041956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plantmayo/pseuds/plantmayo
Summary: Victor arrives at Ingolstadt, and he immediately longs for his home, and his most treasured friend.
Relationships: Henry Clerval/Victor Frankenstein
Kudos: 24





	Mine Own Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually the first thing I wrote when getting back into writing, I think it's kind of cute, it's another thing I wrote in one sitting.

I arrived at Ingolstadt, and after such a long while being resigned only to a carriage I desired nothing more than to run about the grounds and scream with the delight that I was indeed free. I refrained from doing so, as I did not wish to offend the people of the university before at very least seeing their faces. But I underestimated the task that was carrying my luggage from the grounds, all the way up to my apartment, which I had neglected to realize beforehand was at the uppermost floor of the building.

You can imagine my dismay at having to carry all my required items up four stories, but I managed as well as one can without the help of his comrades. I found myself in that moment longing for my Clerval, if only for the brush of his hand to reassure me.

I did eventually make it to my rooms, and I nearly collapsed upon the bed but never before had I let such foolish things as sleep stop me, so I carried onward with the pursuit of unpacking all I had brought with me. I pushed the thoughts of my most trusted companion from my mind, as I could not be distracted with this most critical of endeavours. I surveyed the room, as I had before been so preoccupied with the task of transporting my luggage up the many flights of stairs that I had yet to get a proper glimpse of the place. 

It was rather large, with a kitchen in one corner, and a small table located near it. As soon as I walked in the door I had noticed the carmine armchairs which assaulted my eyes with their radiant hues. I could not help but be reminded of the bowtie that Clerval favored so, as it was incredibly similar to the color of the room’s decor. I felt my cheeks warm with another thought of him passing my mind. I walked over to the handsome oak bookshelf which lay in between the two armchairs, and squinted at it, analyzing its size, considering how many of the volumes I had brought with me would be able to fit upon those shelves. I quickly deduced that I could at least fit one suitcase full of books, if not more, so I began the task of filling the shelves with the alchemy and science texts I so adored. Every so often I would rifle through the pages before putting it in its proper place, my countenance brightening upon the encouragement that the words of my favored authors brought upon my soul.

When the moon was high in the sky and I was exhausted from the day’s efforts I pulled one last book from the suitcase and sank into the chair, turning to a random page. It was unimportant where, as I knew that reading would calm my mind enough to where I could rest. I remembered that Clerval would always recite some fanciful romantic something as we drifted off to sleep in those late nights we so often spent together. 

But as my tired eyes skimmed the words I had read perhaps hundreds of times before I noticed something strange. It was a piece of paper with my darling Clerval’s looping cursive upon it, and as I knew that this was my book, and not his it startled me a little bit. I rubbed my eyes in an attempt to see better what he had written, in case it was something of such a dire consequence that he had felt the need to slip it amongst my things. I found upon the piece of paper a poem, which read:

_I would sooner take a sword  
Through mine own heart  
Than I would part from thee  
My dearest friend  
How I adore the stars  
But nothing can compare to all that shine  
In thine eyes_

I felt my face flush once more, but this time it was accompanied by the sensation of tears leaking from the corners of my eyes. I closed the book careful to not crumple the poetry that Clerval had penned with his own hand. My Henry had written me something. I clutched tight on to that thought, and tucked the paper into my breast pocket with the utmost care, as I drifted off to sleep, still seated within the armchair, reassured by the words of my most cherished friend.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! Big thanks to my friend @n0nbinaryfinery on Twitter for reading this and helping me to edit it before it went up. And thanks again to everyone on the goth lit discord for always being wonderful and supportive! <3


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